Alike
by WrinkleFeet
Summary: Harley and Pamela are new step-sisters. But between cruel neglect and sadistic sexual abuse, the two turn to each other for romantic, sexual, and emotional support. Starts with a quickly built romantic/sexual relationship in the first 6k words, and then after that we'll delve into the actual plot. So yeah.. don't worry this story isn't gonna be all sex scenes. It will have depth.
1. Chapter 1

Ivy couldn't stand it. Those spindly, bony arms, the inhumanly pale skin, the greasy, almost green-tinted hair, the way that sickeningly wide grin contorted and stretched his already sharp, sinister features. But most of all, she couldn't stand that sound. The ear-splitting, gut wrenching, bone chilling cackle. And that's what it was... A _cackle_. Or at least the closet thing to a human sound that you could relate it to. Of course, she could see the shrewd handsomeoness in his facial structure, she had eyes after all. But then again, his looks were only in his facial structure. Everything else about him was disgusting, repulsive. The man's name: Joe Kerr. If you could even call him a man. Ivy couldn't even begin to fathom how someone so soft and innocent had come from this man. Harley, her new step sister, was... well extremely... ingenious. Almost sickeningly so. And certainly far more beautiful than any of the genes that... that- _creature_ \- could give her. And even more unfathomable, was why her mother chose to marry him. And without her consent. Then again, her mother never really asked for Ivy's consent. It was simply do this, and do that. Not considering Ivy's opinions or wants- or her needs for that matter, but then again, that's how her mother was, and something she had grown extremely accustomed to. However, she never grew comfortable to it. Nothing made her wither more than her Mother's icy gaze. And that was saying a lot, very little (other than mom) has ever made Pamela Ivy Isley lose composure (visibly). Not since late childhood. However, as far as composure goes, Harley extremely tried hers. Something about the girl got under skin... undid her. And the redhead had been wondering if it had any sexual connotations. Of course the girl would have never accepted (nor admitted) the possibility, except ... the dream... had happened. To be honest it was vague, questionable; though, that didn't change the fact that it happened. And Pamela Isley was all about the facts. And the facts were she had a sex dream about her step sister, but another fact was: hormones and the sub conscious mind mixing together into some kind of large, confusing casserole of daily life and the most basic human desires, was indeed a common teenage experience.

Speaking of the devil, the currently conflicted girl was shaken from her thoughts by a knock on her door.

"Who is it?" responded Ivy in a rather, neutral tone.

"It's Harley.. I-I needed some help, ya know, with biology..." the girl voiced in a somewhat bashful tone.

Harley hoped she didn't sound like an idiot. Or needy... or... why did she care so much anyway? She supposed it was because she didn't want to have a crappy relationship or reputation with her new sister. Or that's what she was telling herself, though, the butterflies in her stomach were offering an alternative explanation. Before she could verbally make a fool of herself, the girl barged into Ivy's room not even considering the fact that her step-sister hadn't even granted her the permission.

Harley froze.

Pamela was staring at her, rather frostily she might add, in fact it wasn't really a stare. More of a look, a condemning act of eye contact, if it was to be explained accurately. The air was thick with silent tension, that was until the stern, yet somehow alluring, tone of Ivy cut through it.

"Did I say you could come in?"

"Uh- I mean, well no, but I... I, yeah, sorry."

Poison Ivy quirked an eyebrow, it was the only sign of how she felt on the inside that she chose to display. And then again it was extremely misleading, as it conveyed speculation, yet in reality her stoic, unforgiving resolve was melting.

"It's fine."

Harley visibly lightened up at , unbeknownst to her, Pamela's pathetic attempt at an apology. Then again apologies aren't really her thing, well, neither is being pathetic. So we'll settle for the words extremely vague and subtle.

"Oh well that's good, for a second there, I thought I had made you mad." The blonde accentuated the sentence with an uncertain smile, her nervousness still present.

"You did." Yup, Pamela had put her walls up again.

"Oh well, that sucks. _Ha. Ha._ "

Shit. That was a stupid move. Harley knew it before it came out of her mouth. The sarcastic reply, the monotone laugh. She was treading upon dangerous territory. She grimaced inwardly.

Ivy however, had an entirely unexpected response. She smiled. A genuine one. It spread across her face, and despite her years of practice as an ice bitch, she couldn't stop it. The moment she did it, she knew it was a loss. Yet it felt like a victory. However, she wasn't one to succumb to feel-goodyness, and once again her guard was up, adorning her Mother's very own chilling expression of emotional indifference.

"Sucks, yes, quite a bit, doesn't it? Just like you not receiving any help with biology, therefore causing you to fail the upcoming test, ultimately condemning your future as each and every failing grade slowly drags you down into an inescapable pit of academic struggle."

Oddly enough, the intense and rather overthought statement, caused her to just burst out into a fit of giggles.

"Oh my God, Red, you're so cute. That was the nerdiest thing I've ever heard."

Hearing the giggles, Harley call her cute, and being called a nerd enveloped Pamela into a confusing mesh of anger, frustration, flusteredness... and slight... excitement. Maybe not excitement but whatever it was, was rather enjoyable, yet in the end infuriating because of how it combated what should have been indignity. She felt a tingle in her stomach, and a slight heat in her cheeks, though other than the physical symptoms, her cold demeanor remained. Intact, it seemed to had warped into a sort of... covert anger. If that even makes sense.

Ivy began to start another rant before steeling herself and addressing the preexisting request, "Biology you say? Well, seeing as it's bound to happen once my mother sees your soon to be McDonalds employee's grades, yes."

Now it was time for Harley to quirk an eyebrow. Because to be honest Harley was very smart, albeit biology was not her strongest subject. In actuality, she had really made up the whole biology thing to just have an excuse to... _bond_ with her _sister_. It absolutely was not about those beautiful, encompassing, sea glass green eyes. Or the subtle, yet pleasant smell of her rose-like perfume. Not at all.

It was obvious that Pamela viewed her step-sister as air-headed, child-like, and overly naive. Harley was extremely use to people interpreting her as such. That didn't really bother her though, as it seemed to reward her with sympathy and kindness. Well, by most people. Though she was also interpreted as weak. This caused problems. Like with dad. Regardless the red-heads firm belief in such an assumption, well, she found it endearing to be honest. But in the end, the disguise, the persona- it was just that. Harley was in no way naive or air-headed. Perhaps childlike. And the weak part was still left to be determined, at least in her opinion it was. Either way, she had seen the corruption and vile nature of the world and the people that inhabited it. In her very own father of all people. The things he had said to her. Done to her. Done to her body... It wasn't right, but it was fair. Life is horrible to everyone she had learned. One way or another. No one escapes unscathed. Like her Dad, he was most likely just as abused as she was. She felt her joy of being with her sister dissipate. In fact everything dissipated, the anxiety, the excitement. The hope. But then again, in the end, were they really even there in the first place?

Ivy noticed the dark look in her eyes. She knew that look. It was a dead one. The empty gaze of a broken human. The look spoke volumes. The way the sorrow swirled around apathy and broken faith in those piercing blue eyes. And suddenly, Pamela reached a realization. Of how much they were alike. They both shared the same ailment. Because what breeds more pain than the lack of it? Or the measures that are taken to create such an existence. This was no longer a superficial tolerance anymore.

Not that Pamela realized that yet. I mean, of course she did, however, denial is extremely powerful.

"Hello, Earth to Pigtails?"

Harley grinned, seemingly forgetting her misfortunes. Not really something characteristic of depression, genuine smiles... yet, she wasn't experiencing depression. Though it was an uphill battle nonetheless.

"I get a nickname too, huh? Thanks _Red_!" The amount of genuinity the girl could fake impressed Ivy... unless... it wasn't an act? Was it possible, for Harley to fight through the pain enough to have these moments. I guess in that aspect they weren't alike, Harley fought for herself to be happy, Pam fought for others to see her as happy.

"Hey Red, now that we are all tight and all, I'm gonna being honest, I don't really need help in biology.. or anything, I just wanted an excuse to hang out with ya'."

'Red' became amused with this reveal of truth. She found it endearing, yet if she was thinking as she normally did, she would have realized the black flag. The first sign of manipulation. _Happy Coincidences._ Something she was also skilled in. Though, something about this girl seemed to cloud her mind completely.

"Is that how you ask a lady out?"

Now Harley's eyes went wide. Genuinely. That's not what she was expecting. Her pail complexion was soon a deep red.

"I-uh, I- I'm flattered b-" A finger was placed on her lips. A finger belonging to the properly manicured and moisturized hand of Pamela Ivy Isley. Her step-sister. The feeling in her lower body at the contact was hardly appropriate.

Her eyes went even more wide, staring straight into the sea glass ones of Pamela fricking Isley. The _hottest person_ on this pl- No. No. No. Her step-sister. Just her step-sister. Lalalalalalala. Step-sister. Though, despite her attempts, Harley was really hoping that they were the close kind of sisters that cuddled in there underwear together and stuff, just like she had seen in the movies. But if she had been really thinking about it, one of Ivy's most alluring traits, to her at least, was the girl's frigidity. The actual definition of something you can't have. The anti-cuddler. That was her. Well. Harley knew that wasn't Ivy's real self. The most cold-hearted are the most sensitive, in most cases. Especially at this young of an age, and Ivy clearly was no sociopath or psychopath. Just an extremely hurt girl compensating for her own self-moderated emotional oppression. But right at the moment it was really hot. Irony. Cold=Hot.

Ivy, swore she heard a barely audible... _sound_. She felt her composure falling apart at the seams as she recognized the look in Harley's eyes. Arousal. She'd seen it once in her 'friend' Helena's eyes (for those of you who don't know, that's the huntress, I honestly find her really sexy and a good character for a sexual experience filled with a confusing mix of sexual arousal, and resentment. They're simply to cold-hearted for each other, though I feel like, the Huntresses demeanor is more genuine, as her background has caused her to _become_ tough, Ivy's has simply caused her to act tough, when obviously she is falling apart at the seams on the inside. Not that she's not tough, just not as much as Helena. It's just very rarely that the things that we do to please others are as genuine as what we do for ourselves. Plus Selina is simply too fucking redundant. But I'll include her, don't worry. Sorry to interrupt this mock sexy times scene with a bunch of babbling, if you hadn't realized, I tend to spiral into confusing, contradictory tangents.). The reminder of the stimulating experience mixed with this one caused the unwelcome sensation between Pamela's legs to grow.

The moment seemed to last forever.

"I was just joking."

And originally she was. But damn, now, she definitely expected those sex dreams.

"How about we go do something involving, hmm, biology?"

Harley choked on her own... whatever it was, painfully obvious, taboo arousal? Anyway whatever it was, she choked on it.

Pam instead became mad. So suddenly. So mad. How dare this girl. How dare her encroach upon's her life. Both awake and asleep. No. No. No. "I meant as in plants, or animals, you pervert."

Harley was taken aback by the harsh snap, not that she could say she was shocked. It seemed pretty typical of Ivy. That didn't mean she was just gonna let it go.

"Says the one that was trying to get me to go on a date with her!"

"Dear, I believe you were the one that asked to 'hang out' with me." Pam's deflection was spot on. Her use of the word 'dear' was perfectly impassive and dismissive.

It sparked a small twinge of disappointment in her.

"Well, I'll keep you posted, Pamela, bye."

And with that she left.


	2. Chapter 2

_**I would like to explicitly convey that child pornography has to deal with sexually explicit Photography of anyone under 18 in the United States. This, however in no form is child pornography nor illegal, albeit they're under 18, my state has a legal consenting age of sex with an adult is 17. However, these characters being 16 and 17 are not breaking any laws having sex as they can legally consent to each other. Plus, if it makes anyone feel better I'm not over 18 yet so this isn't some pervy old person (I would say dude but I don't know any guys who write yuri). I just wanted to tell you guys that. Then again rape is not something that should be taken lightly, so... try to keep your hand out of your pants for that scene... and the other ones? I dunno. It's up to you.**_

Oh no. He was in a mood again. It had been weeks. She thought it might have stopped. But no, Mrs. Isley only offered a distraction. But now he was back at it. He had reformed to his old self, and with him, so had her hope back into defeat. That's what she was after all. Defeated. As he screamed at her. Broken. As he hit her. Broken. As she stared into that empty, disgusting grin. Broken. As he held her down. Broken. As his sharp, unkempt nails dug into her skin, drawing blood. Broken. As he painfully stretched her open. Broken. As silent sobs wracked her limp form. Broken. And it was the worst. Worst than any of the physical pain he could ever cause her. He was supposed to be there for her, that's what the world said. But Harley had learned long ago, that was a lie. No one was there for her, other than her.

Not Dad.

Not Mrs. Isley.

And especially not Pamela.

The last one hurt most of all. It had only been a couple months that they'd been together. Two weeks since the incident. The lame biology excuse. The joke. The finger. And the rejection. And Harley knew it was stupid. She did. How fast it had grown. Her desire- no her need for Pamela. But it could only be expected, she assumed, she was lonely and in need of affection. But, it didn't seem right. Not because they were step-sisters. But because... she didn't even know if she really liked Ivy for Ivy. But, what she did know, limerance or not, she felt unguarded near the redhead. Unlike other people she never expected cruel intent. She just felt. Felt like, no matter, how rude the redhead was, no matter how much she hurt her feelings, she didn't need to deny it. Didn't need to fight it. Even at Pamela's most cruelest capacity, no matter how icy, she felt like she was meant to be there. There was no reason to go against it. And not in a broken, defeated way, but in a safe way. Like whatever happened, whatever Red did to her was okay. And she knew that wasn't healthy... but she didn't care.

She also knew that she would have far preferred the feel of _Pamela's_ well-kept nails digging into her. To have felt _Pamela's_ fingers inside of her. To feel _Pamela's_ teeth sink into her. To hear _Pamela's_ soft moans instead of his ragged grunts. But mostly. Compared to all of that, she would have rather felt _Pamela's_ body against her own. To have melted into her warmth, and to have known that the future didn't matter. Only they did. But that wasn't the reality.

The reality is never as pleasant as the dream.

 **A Month Later**

This was not the action of a young lady. Not the action of Pamela God Damn Isley. Not the thoughts of a wholesome, well-behaved step sister. But all those voices didn't really seem to make her want to stop. To stop the fingers that were curling inside of her. The fingers that belonged to none other than Pamela Isley, herself. At first it was just to relieve the tension. The dreams had been coming back tenfold. And she was starting to become, well in no candy-coated way, horny. Pent-up. Frustrated. Whatever you want to name it. And at first she had promised herself that it wouldn't be to Harley. In no way was she going to masturbate to the thought of her step-sister. She had settled on her experience with Helena, as to prevent any fantasies trailing off into places- or people- she didn't want them to be.

In the beginning, it worked... but as things started to get more... heated, she found her mind lolling off into those exact fantasies she wanted to stay away from. But she couldn't. And there she was. Pamela Isley. Laying in bed, stifling moans and whimpers and the occasional vocalized name of well- you know who. And as pent-up as she was, and as good as it felt, she could tell that the edge was not as close as she would want. It's not that she wasn't turned on. She was extremely so. But she also was confused. And guilty. And in a way it only made it hotter. The taboo of it all. But... she wasn't very experienced with this. A, she never masturbates, like ever, and B, she's only had one sexual experience with a girl... well, at all. So, I guess you could say she wasn't pushing the right buttons, and honestly It's kind of an art. Not that it's too hard to figure out what oneself likes but... she was far too impatient to find out. This orgasm would take time and dedication. And that was frustrating. She was frustrated, and that only ended in a rougher, more precise process. Though it wasn't as bad as what was about to happen...

Harley heard something. It was high-pitched and constant. Like some sort of rhythm. It reminded her of something. Something she was all too familiar with. Crying. Someone was crying. And only one person was in the house other than her. Predictably, Harley sought out the 'sobs'. Well they weren't really sobs, she thought, more of that high pitched whimper you get when you try to stop from crying. Of course, it was coming from Pamela's room. As expected.

Harley silently opened the door, as to appear not threatening. Although, speaking of appearances, the scene playing before Harley was absotutely, positutely not that of a crying woman.

The redheaded girl continued to pleasure herself and, having recently made the decision to add a little extra to the self-love session, was finally on her way to release. Release from all of her forbidden fantasies, taboo desires, and unkempt thoughts. The moans were getting louder, the fingers faster, and the panting increasingly more ragged. Her face was red, from both arousal and excretion. Her eyelids were scrunched close in bliss, hips bucking wildly into her own hand. She was so close. She could feel every nerve in her body start to pulse, she could feel all the desperation, confusion, and arousal thrum through her entire body, all radiating from her currently, extremely slick slit. That was until she heard a noise. (She was still pretty wet though.)

Hey eyes snapped open. Her entire body froze, fingers, hips and all. However, she was still extremely flustered and panting heavily.

That sound was Harley. It was a breathy whimper.

Harley's stomach abruptly dropped as electricity coursed through her entire being. She too was flushed and breathing heavily.

They made eye contact, heated green met piercing blue.

"I-uh... hi."

Even while mortified, Pamela still found Harley adorable. It only served to strengthen the ache radiating from her core.

"This, looks bad, doesn't it?" The redhead managed to deadpan, the humor breaking her cold resolve, but not her composure.

Harley was about to say its's fine, she understands, blah-blah-blah before she realized Pamela hadn't unsheathed her fingers yet. And that broke something in Harley. All her self-control gone. Out the window. Red currently had her fingers deep inside of herself, right in front of Harley, right in her presence. And that didn't seem to deflate Pam's arousal. In fact, it seemed to fuel her physical discomfort. The longer the blonde girl stared at her, the more Ivy seemed to writhe and fidget, every once and a while slightly bucking, seemingly involuntarily. Now Harley could have simply been reading into it, seeing as her step-sister was most likely extremely close to the edge. But Harley's thoughts were foggy. Blurry. And then everything was clear. A cheeky grin over took the slightly younger girl's face.

"Really, because I think it looks amazing." The sentence was accentuated with a subtle lip bite, 75% instinct, 25% intention. Harley began to close the distance between the two.

"What are you d-" And all of a sudden Harley's finger was pressing against Pamela's lips. And if they weren't both currently preoccupied they would have noticed both the deja vu and the irony.

"I could ask you what you were doing, but I think that's rather obvious."

"Yes, I suppose it is."

The feel of the Redhead's lips moving against her finger, was adding to the blonde's arousal. Adding to her boldness. Adding to the excitement. The blonde, taking a change of pace, simply brought her hand to cup the girls chin in her hand, caressing the soft skin of her cheek with her thumb. Pamela shivered as the tip of her thumbnail grazed the flesh.

Rationality finally hitting Isley, she jerked her head out of Harley's tender grasp. "You should go... this is wrong." Her attempt at sounding commanding failed as mixed emotions tinged her voice.

Harley ignored the deflection of intimacy. "Is that how it feels for you, wrong? Because I don't think anything's ever felt more right." The younger girl lowered herself into the redhead's bed. This caused the latter to turn away. Not enough will power to get out of bed, but not enough courage to engage in the situation. Still not willing to give up, Harley pressed herself against Pamela.

"This isn't right, We can't do this."

"Do what? All I'm doing is laying next to you."

Pamela chuckled bitterly, "You make it sound so innocent. It seems you have a knack for that."

"Define innocence." The girl buried her face into the older one's neck, the tickle of her warm breathe not going unnoticed by Pam. Eventually the last of the redhead's resolve dissolved as she allowed herself to relax in to Harley's embrace.

"You." Harley was taken aback by this, she was also somewhat hurt, perhaps Pam still thought of her as a naive child. Did Pamela like Harley? Or her persona? Harley decided to bury the thought and just enjoy the moment.

"You smell so good," Harley inhaled Ivy's scent, "Like roses, and salt. A combination I can confidently say I never would have found so pleasant until this moment."

This merited a smirk from Pamela. "Yes, nothing smells better than lotion and sweat."

Despite recognizing the sarcasm in her words, the blonde gave a sincere response, "I completely agree, especially when it your's... one has to wonder what it tastes like.."

Pam, despite being extremely gorgeous, witty, and smart, was pretty much what you would call awkward when it came to sexual and romantic endeavors. "Like chemicals and salt. And, I suppose, skin." She stated the statement rather matter'o'factly, as if stating a hypothesis, and technically, she was.

"I stand corrected."

"What?"

Harley took the opportunity of Pam's growing comfort for the situation to bring it up a notch and... _excite_ her. The redhead's eyes went wide when the girl's lips pressed against her earlobe, the warmth of the breath against Ivy's inner air serving to build the tension, before promptly whispering, " _That_ was the nerdiest thing I've ever heard." The sentence was finished with Harley lightly sinking her teeth into the sensitive flesh. Before Pam could savor the humor of Harley's statement, she let out a soft, breathy moan at the stimulus.

Now it was Pam's turn. Literally. The redhead turned over to face the adorable human that had been cuddling her. Those eyes. Damn those eyes. She move in closer to Harley, tangling there's limbs together as she did, the both of them nose to nose, fitting together like a puzzle piece.

"Are you sure you want this?"

"Holy crap Red, yes! Just kiss me!"

"But I'm-"

"Do I have to instigate everything?"

And with that there lips pressed together. Softly. It was smooth, and warm, and soft. Extremely mild, yet, passionate. As it was not as ravenous as one would have thought the kiss of two horny, pent-up teenagers would have been. In fact it was sweet. Extremely so. I'm not saying it was perfect, or skilled but it was... innocent. And it stayed like that for a bit. Before Pam gained control, choosing to to deepen the kiss and nibble at her lip , clouding the emotional intimacy with a hint of sexual desire. Something about the moment being elevated into a different direction, disappointed Harley. Despite her suggestive advances and growing arousal, something didn't feel right. Dad had never kissed her. Ever, but it seemed that this was going to escalate into a far less violent version of something she did with dad. Or, in better words, Dad had done to her. Of course Pamela did not have a penis, neither was she going to rape Harley... she still felt... odd.

Breathing heavily, the redhead pulled back, a look of concern in her eyes, "Are you okay, Pigtails? Your lips kind of stopped moving?"

Harley giggled at the nickname before responding, "You're so cute, y'know? With all your nicknames and stuff," then Harley's eyes darkened realizing she had to communicate what was wrong to Pamela, and she had never told anyone after (her deceased) mom accused her of lying about it. But she felt different with Pamela. Like she could wear her heart on her sleeve, like she could tell her anything. "But, yes. Something is wrong."

Pamela tucked a strand of blonde hair behind Harley's hair, "What is it dear." This time her step-sisters tone was comforting not cold in the use of the word dear. It was en'dear'ing.

"You know Dad." It was more of a statement than a question, as if to say, you know how he is. Just hearing about the pathetic man sparked Ivy's anger. Her eyes hardened and her tone took on a serious aspect, yet still remained compassionate. "Yes? What about him."

And there was the look Pamela had recognized earlier. "He.." Anger overtook her entire being, already knowing the answer, though as to comfort Harley she did not express it. "He-he r-" and there it was. The break. The look the girl she cared about gave her. It broke her. It was no longer empty, but the most innocent and vulnerable expression she had seen. And all portrayed in those soul-piercing baby blues. It practically screamed need. Need for compassion. Need for comfort. Something Ivy was starting to see the girl had very little of in her life, if any at all. She buried her face into the crook between Pamela's neck and shoulder. She curled into a ball and wrapped her arms tightly around the redhead's frame. As almost as if it was automatic the woman, uncharacteristic to herself, returned the embrace, hugging Harley to her body as if she was trying to shield her from some terrible explosion. Compassionate, infuriated, yet still maintaining a calm exterior. Pamela was certain that as soon as her beliefs were confirmed she was going to murder that man. But first she was going to comfort Harley.

Silent sobs wracked her entire body. Her face, unbeknownst to Ivy, was contorted into a silent scream from all of the emotion that was hitting her at once. Her breathing became increasingly fast and uncontrolled, all the way up to the point that she began to hyper ventilate. Ivy knew that she could offer no comfort with words for such an awful trauma. She could only provide her warmth and a sense of security. Though that doesn't mean she didn't try. "Hey, baby, I need you to try to breathe, I know you are experiencing some extreme emotions. And trust me this is not what you deserved. But if you don't get enough oxygen you're going to began to loose control in your limbs, and then you are going to pass out."

Pamela pressed a kiss onto the girl's head, stroking a hand over her back in a consistent rhythmic pattern, as an attempt to soothe her.

Eventually, after several minutes Harleen ran out of tears. Actually Pam wasn't sure how long it had been, minutes, hours. She was riddled with anger and disgust and concern. After Harleen's breathing had calmed down the redhead had retreated into a world of painful, torturous ways to kill her step father. No. Only human beings can be fathers (to another human... shhhh). She was going to kill that _animal._

A weak voice called out her name. Pamela snapped back to reality to a set of those beautiful, now deeply troubled, eyes. "Yes, Harleen?" It was formal, but not in an impersonal way. But in a way that held respect and a sense of sobriety. One that portrayed how much the girl meant to her.

Harley was no idiot, she understood the gesture, that doesn't mean she liked the name. She crinkled her nose in response, trying to relieve some of the weight of the situation. Pamela allowed herself a smile.

"You're one of the most precious people I've ever met Harley," the redhead rested her head on Harleen's shoulder, "scratch that. You are the most precious person I've ever met. And I know we've only spent 3 months together, but I really do care about you. I know it might come off as some sort of limerance and maybe that might be involved, but I also feel something for you. A connection. I know it seems like this might be only sexual for me, and that might have been how it started off, but that's not what it is. In fact that's never what it was. I felt something with you I've never felt with anyone else since the first conversation we had. And you can believe, that he is _never_ going to lay finger on you again, and I-"

Pamela's confession/rant was ended by a chaste, yet deep kiss placed on her lips, she thought it would be a short peck, but when Harley didn't let up, Ivy began to fully engage in it, tangling her hands in the younger girl's blonde locks. It took Pamela by surprise when Harley ran her tongue against her lips. A familiar warmth was beginning to build in her, but not solely from arousal. It was mixed with an encompassing feeling of emotional warmth, of... intimacy. These sensations worked together in an intoxicating mixture that had her head swimming. Pamela allowed Harley to have continued dominance of the kiss, trying to avoid giving her any anxiety, and the girl began to take advantage of that privilege as her own mixture of arousal and emotions built. Pamela let out a slight sigh when Harley began to nibble on her lip. The nibbling was great and all but the real topper was when the blonde bit down, a bit too rough for comfort, but Ivy didn't seem to mind it as she let out a high-pitched, yet quiet moan, giving Harley the perfect opportunity to slip her tongue into the reciprocating girl's mouth. From there the spiral from self-control to an unbridled mix of lust and affection began to take over. The kiss began to grow more passionate and needy, sighs and moans fueling each partakers arousal. Isley, in the heat of the moment, forgot about taking it slow, and slid a hand down to cup her rear. Though she didn't stop at the tame gesture, she dug her fingers into the firm, yet inviting flesh through her shorts. Despite the layer of clothing, she felt it nonetheless. The amount of pressure Pam applied varied moment by moment eliciting whimpers from the other girl. This only encouraged Ivy more and she began to move her body into the kiss.

Harley didn't know how to handle this exactly. It felt so good. Better than anything she had ever felt before. She wanted more of it, yet still feared the main course. But she had to trust the girl. She had to trust that she cared. Because Harley knew that she cared.

Harley slipped out of her thoughts when the other girl's leg slipped between her legs.

" _Red.. please_." She voiced in a half-moan, half-mumble against Pamela's lips. The voice was needy and desperate, packed full of heat and desire.

Speaking of Red, the girl removed her lips from Harley's, to the girl's short-lived disappointment, and began to trail sloppy kisses down her jawline to her pulse. Once she reached her mark, the girl's teeth clamped down on it, not nearly enough to draw blood, but it was most definitely not a nibble. And, if all of it wasn't enough already, the girl decided to contrast the pain with a soft, yet quickly elevating sucking action.

" _Fuck..."_

The red headed girl snickered into her neck, "Don't worry, I'm sure we'll get to it."

And then a voice of pure, untapped desire, " _Please, Red, I'm ready."_


End file.
